Undistressed Damsel
by FloodFeSTeR
Summary: My take on the untold story of Legolas' mother. How she and Thranduil met. How she lived. How she laughed. How she fought. Not just for herself or her people, but for the love of her life and the son she never got to meet. :: Thranduil/OC, sort of AU, other details inside ::
1. Chapter 1

**_Okey guys, so this is a story that popped into my head after watching Desolation of Smaug and was further encouraged by Battle of Five Armies. My version of history with Thranduil and Legolas' mother. From when they met to when she died, if she really died. Since we don't know much about Legolas' mother, this will sort of be AU as I am manipulating several things for a higher purpose. Expect a sequel, nine out of ten its coming._**

**_A few necessary details about my OC:_**

**_Name - _**_Gehenna Gastly_

**_Age -_**_ 27_

**_Race -_**_ human_

**_Occupation -_**_ her main job is to be a soldier. She leads most battles in her fathers name and is almost a princess on the side. We'll get further into her character as the story goes on, don't wanna give too much away._

**_So read, review but most of all enjoy...and review...*begins to whistle ridiculously*_**

* * *

_"My daughter, it is good to see you!"_

_She chuckles and takes her father into a rivaling bear hug, his beard scratching against her cheek; as she pulled back, her armor clanked around her knees and arms, against the hilt of her sword as she gripped it tightly. Her father was a portly man shorter than even his only daughter (where she stood at 5'6", he was close to only five feet). His beard nearly reached his knees, braided in some spots with metal bear heads holding them together at the ends. He wore robes the color of burgundy, the same shade of fur under her armor._

_Like father like daughter._

_"Yes father, it is good to see you as well. It has been too long."_

_He humphed and turned around, shuffling back to his 'throne' (in reality, it was but a tall backed dinner chair). She paused in front of him, her smile never breaking. She and her father were close and it had been a month since they had last spoken. She had been out scouting for him, looking for more men and women to join their rising kingdom._

_"You called me back in early, father," she let her smile drop just a little, wanting a more serious tone. "Is there something the matter? Is mother okay?"_

_Her father waved a hand. "Yes, yes, your mother is well. She and her maidens are tending to the gardens. I called you in on a diplomatic matter."_

_She cocked her head, ashy gray hair ruffling. "A diplomatic matter? Have we found a suitable candidate?"_

_Her father nodded, icy blue eyes sparkling with eagerness. "Yes, an elven kingdom. Mirkwood."_

_She tensed. Mirkwood, she knew of them. Vicious warriors, elves. Not that them being elves mattered to her, too be honest it was their reputation for violence that unnerved her. But that didn't mean she wouldn't abide by her fathers command._

_She straightened her back and her smile dissapeared. "And what would you have me do?"_

_Her dather reached into his coat, holding out a roll of parchment to her; she hesitated but took it in her hand, staring down at it while her father spoke. "They are going into battle, I want you to take your finest men and assist them. You should arrive in the middle of the fight. Find their leader and king, Thranduil, he will be riding an elvish elk. Give him the letter then I am sure he will speak with you about its contents."_

_She looked up to him, seeing something in her fathers eyes that she didn't recognize; she had never gone on such an errand. "Yes father," she lowered the letter to her side. "I will leave tonight."_

_Her father smiled warmly. "Then goodbye, for now my daughter."_

_"Goodbye father..."_

_She had a bad feeling about this...but she was never one to pass up a fight._

* * *

The first sight he gains of her is her sword.

It gleams in the morning light as she slices through a goblins skull, a fine mist rising from the serated edges; a frost enchantment. A witch? No, she'd be using more magic and she wouldn't be wearing armor. Pale gray hair ruffles around her shoulder pouldrons and the fur underneath, braided around the edges of her face. She grins as she pulls the reigns of her black stallion to the right, sword out and cleanly severing the heads of seven warriors. Her stallion foams at the mouth, rearing back and slamming his hooves into the face of a hammer-wielding orc.

Thranduil jumps back into battle when pain shoots down his right arm and across his back. He's been shot with an arrow; with a fierce growl he rips the arrow out where it sunk between his ebony armor and switches his sword to his good hand, digging his heels into his elks sides. It lets out a loud cry and drives forward, bucking the archer up and into the air with its antlers.

"Lord Thranduil," he looks over his shoulder, hearing the husky voice even through the sounds of battle. The woman sidles up beside him, chest heaving as her men drive through in waves; she is smiling. "I am Gehenna of Gastly, my men and I have come to your aid."

He scowls. "And what makes you think I require your aid?"

She looks out to the battlefield, flinging the blood from her sword with several flicks of the wrist. She looks back to him with a solemn look on her face; what a magnificent shade of blue her eyes were.

"Sir, you ran into battle with three hundred men, you are down to just over a hundred. My men are strong, we have already cut the enemies numbers to half."

"And why have you come to our aid," he questions, arm arching up without looking and opening a gash in an approaching enemies throat.

"My father sent me to have council," she tugged on her stallions reigns gently. "We seek to form an alliance between our kingdoms."

"So you bring an army," he arched a brow.

She grinned sheepishly. "Word was you were in a bit of a predicament."

"A spy," he mused. "In my court? Impressive and dangerous, I should have your head."

She grinned full on then, straightening her back. "How about we do that _after _we deal with this filth, hmm?"

He couldn't help but smile. "Its a date."

He fell for her right then.

* * *

"You and your men are welcome to any of our supplies," Thranduil informed the war maiden, Gehenna, as he sheathed his sword; he had executed a half dead orc, other men doing the same - picking through the bodies and killing any survivors. "Speak to the Quartermaster, he will have you set up with tents and other necessities."

Gehenna nodded, steam rising from hot blood on her chilled blade; Grimsever, a sword coming into legend. "My men and I thank you."

He nodded once, beginning a walk back towards his elk. "I am grateful for your aid. I do not want to imagine what would have happened if you had not shown up like you did."

She smiled, sheathing her blade and holding to her horses saddle; it twisted its head back, soft muzzle nipping at the fur under her pouldrons. "I share your worries," she hooked her foot in, hoisting herself up and onto the stallions back; she coaxed her horse into stride beside Thranduil and his elk. "That is a fine buck you have there."

"Thank you," Thranduil hummed, eyes set forward. "So, tell me, why has your father sought to form an alliance between my kingdowm and yours? I am sure there are several other kingdoms more suitable."

Gehenna chuckled, swaying on her horses back. "Well, that may be so but really, I am just a messenger," she reached back into the saddle bag, pulling out a rolled piece of parchment tied with thread and with a green wax seal. "A letter from my father, adressed to you."

He watched her tuck the letter back into her bag with a furrowed brow. "It seems a bit trivial to send an army for a letter."

Gehenna shrugged. "As I said, we heard of your coming battle. My father insisted I lead ahead of our general."

Another odd fact. Thranduil watched her sway and smile, waving at and praising her men as they passed; her men and his were gathering their dead, ready to burn or bury, some were still picking through for survivors on both sides.

When she returned her attention to him, he sighed but gave her a small half smile. "Well, I'm sure we'll figure out the details back at camp. I believe rest should come first, though."

She smiled, cheeks dimpling. "I couldn't agree more."

* * *

_**So guys, what do ya think? I felt it ended in a weird pace but I couldn't go any further, I was eager to post and I was in a hurry.**_

Note: ignore spelling mistakes, I typed this on my phone and when I do so, I can't use auto correct.

_**Remember to review! I love to hear from you guys!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Oh so short, and a little lost but I'm content…sort of._**

* * *

_Rest._

A funny idea for a funny mer.

Thranduil watched in amusement as Gehenna was twirled in the arms of her second in command – Thorald – around the room, cheered on by the cacophony of slapping hands and laughter that came with the buzz of alcohol. Gehenna giggled as Thorald folded his arms around her, laughing into her hair and then spinning her out into the small crowd gathered around them. She pushed past the drunk men and they then ignored her, joining in on a chorus of some elvish song she didn't know.

"Quite the lady," Thranduil commented.

Gehenna flashed him a wide grin and then held a hand out to him. "Come now, Thranduil, join in the revelries."

"And why should I," he smirked, but only a little.

She cocked her head, grin still wide. "You are alive!"

As he opened his mouth to speak again, she was whisked away by a fellow woman soldier. They laughed and danced with each other, a drum playing somewhere past the crowd that was slowly beginning to split up and settled into their seats. There were several servants bringing out food and more alcohol while Gehenna was passed around like a rag doll, but she still laughed. She was sued to these type of joyous and drunken parties, especially after a battle like that where they were the victors.

Gehenna laughed loudly as she listened to her men sharing their stories with those in Thranduil's battalion, as if they all knew each other for their whole lives. She fell back into her seat and lifted her goblet to her lips gently, preferring lemon water to alcohol in the presence of a strange army. Even with her men protecting her, she never felt safe around strangers. They always wanted something, especially from her; no one in her father's budding kingdom used another, everyone was treated with equal respect no matter the class or the occupation, reputation. But these mer seemed kind enough, trustworthy, but she wasn't taking a single chance; Gehenna was always wary around elves.

Her eyes danced over the long tables to her left and her right, the one she was seated at. So many smiling faces, faces full of victory…thanks to her. She blinked slowly and looked up, the edge of her goblet brushing against her bottom lip, and she saw him. _Thranduil_. He was watching her from his prettier chair, clothed in fine robes but his sword at his side; she liked a man who came prepared. He was watching her intently and she couldn't help but smirked, watch him raise an eyebrow. Jeez, those things were amazing, weren't they?

She lingered in her chair, even after the tent was cleared and her men were tucked away in their loaned tents. She swirled her drink around, watching the pulp of the lemons knock against the side of the goblet. She looked up when she heard the soft _pat – pat _of familiar shoes. Thranduil stood at the exit, outlined by the moons rays he no doubt enjoyed thoroughly. She took a slow sip of her drink and then smiled at him, setting the goblet down.

"Finally, some alone time," she chuckled.

He didn't even crack a small smile, but his lips did twitch, and he moved to sit in a seat near her. "The letter," he reminded her.

Gehenna's lips popped into an O and she reached into her breastplate – why was she still wearing her armor? – and produced the letter. "Still sealed," she shook her head and plucked up her goblet again. "I really would like to know why my father sent me all the way out here with my men to –"

"He has given you to me."

She spat what was left of her drink onto the cream table cloth, looking to Thranduil with wide eyes. "Wh – What?!"

He was still reading the letter, his fingers and lips firm. "You are his offering for a joining of our kingdoms."

* * *

_She remembered being little, oh – so – little, and her father calling her his princess._

_"Of course you are my princess," he brushed a swirled lock of ivory hair back from her cheek as she lay in bed. "And there will never be another."_

_She smiled. "But I can also be a warrior, papa. Mother says so."_

_Her papa chuckled, nodding. "Yes, sweetheart, just like momma."_

_Gehenna grinned and waved the small wooden sword in her hand. "Just like momma," she cheered. "When will momma be home, papa?"_

_Something dark fell over her papa's face then; thinking back, Gehenna knew something was wrong with her mother, but she would have never guessed her mother died in battle. He didn't tell her until she was twelve years old, when she finally didn't believe his story of her just leaving, her disappearing. Mother died on a spring morning, from a blessed dagger to the heart. Her mother wasn't human, Gehenna always knew that, but she would have never pegged her for a woman of the beast blood; Gehenna was blessed to bear no ill of her mothers lineage. _

_She had always wondered though, what the noises were in the garden so late at night. The sound of a wolf, or was it a bear? It was so loud and would wake her, scare her, and she would run to papa…but her mother was never there._

* * *

She woke with a start, to the sound of her horses neighing outside her tent. She blinked slowly, stretching out on her cot, limbs taught and toes curling out from under her furs before she pulled them away to stand. She breathed deeply as she stepped out of her tent, eyes sweeping the hills instinctively before she reached out for her horses muzzle. It snickered and nuzzled her shoulder, bright golden eyes clashing starkly with the dark mahogany of its fur.

"There, there," Gehenna whispered. "What has you so spooked?"

"Probably me."

Gehenna whirled around, almost clocking Thranduil in the cheek but he caught her arm just in time. Her horse snickered again, tossing his head up and down and stomping at the ground while Gehenna jerked her arm away from the Elven King.

"What do you want," she snarled, stomping into her tent. "And why are you following me?"

"I am here to apologize," his brow furrowed.

"For what," she didn't look at him. "It's not like you're my father – who I loved and trusted very much – who basically sold me off to a stranger."

"I have to apologize for being attracted to you enough to consider accepting the offer."

Gehenna froze, shoulders shuddering as they tensed. She slowly looked back at Thranduil, who was actually giving her puppy – dog eyes. She cocked her head and then shook it. "You considered this," he nodded, not looking one ounce ashamed; she hesitated, licking her lips. "You..you were attracted to me?"

He nodded again. "I still am, obviously."

Gehenna looked at him sorrowfully. "I…I guess it's a starting point."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Holy crackers, I am **__so, so, so, so, so __**sorry for the wait.**_

_**I **__WILL __**be updating this soon, I've just been without the means to type. I just got this new phone and I plan on working on the next chapter in a couple of hour.**_

_**Thank you all for being so patient with me kudos to **__ohmygodsun01 __**for the newest review and for noticing Skyrim elements ;)**_


End file.
